London: day fifty-one and fifty-two

I didn’t write anything yesterday because it was the last day of midterms and I spent the morning studying, took my test then relaxed the rest of the day. Abi and I did go on a brief little adventure though when we took the Tube over to the Barbican because we heard that there was an experimental art project there that sounded interesting. We walked into a pitch black corridor that had lights on mechanized pendulums hanging from the ceiling which would move back and forth in various patterns: that was it. “Experimental?” – yeah. “Art?” – my ass. After that, she and I decided to move onto something FAR more interesting; the antique cars at the Museum of London. Unfortunately the museum was closed so we ended up just walking around a bit, getting some nighttime photos of St. Paul’s, then taking the bus back to NIDO. Then there was that bread fiasco that I posted a picture of on Facebook…

Today, I spent most of the morning sewing some patches onto my leather jacket. This poor jacket is several years old and is literally falling apart at the seams, but frankly, I’m too cheap to buy another one right now. So I’ve been playing extreme makeover with it. My roommate went to the London Fashion Show last weekend and receive a kind of gift bag which she decided that she didn’t want and passed it off to me. I really have no need for a bag like that, but the design on it was pretty cool; a stylized dragon/snake with wings. I made the decision to salvage it for parts. I ripped it up with my pocket knife (didn’t have any scissors) and created a few rough patches with the designs. I then sewed two wings onto the upper back part of the jacket and also sewed my Pink Floyd patch onto the back just below the wings. I then took strips of the design and turned the material over; the material is black and the design on it is white, so on the backside the white comes through in a dim grey and is not quite as bold as the white. I then sewed these strips around the cuffs of the sleeves to cover up where large pieces of the imitation leather had peeled off, leaving just bare cloth. After a few more square touch-up patches, the end result was pretty satisfying. Grungy to be sure, but wearable once more (and I don’t have to buy another jacket for quite a while now).
I then met up with Cassie and we went to coffee at a place just down the street and sat chatting for a while, just catching up on everything we’ve seen and done since being in London. We then decided to go to St. Paul’s because she had not been inside yet and I definitely didn’t mind going back. This time, we started by climbing the stairs all the way to the top and getting pictures from both the Stone and Golden Galleries. We then went down into the crypt and looked around there until they kicked us out when it closed. By then, it was time for the Evensong, so we sat in the choir seats and listened to the singing and the sound of the organ fill the space and echo off the stone. Much like the last time I was there, I was turned to thoughts of questioning, especially when the priest read from Corinthians 2:

Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. ² Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to everyone’s conscience in the sight of God. ³ And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. ⁴ The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel that displays the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. ⁵ For what we preach is not ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. ⁶ For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.

⁷ But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. ⁸ We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; ⁹ persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. ¹⁰ We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. ¹¹ For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body. ¹² So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

I’ve been struggling with the thought that; most people believe that we were formed, shaped and created by God – in that though, if we believe that God created us to be the way we are, that includes the good and not so good parts of us, yes? But what if there is something in your DNA, a sickness or malfunction of sorts that keeps you from God? Like, say…crippling Depression? To be born with hopelessness and despair and brokenness ingrained and coded into your mind already – if I were to claim that God created me, then I claim that He created the thing in my life which keeps me from Him. Think He might have forgotten a thing or two… Because I’ve been told multiple times, “it’s probably genetic” – so, what the hell? Because I want to believe. I have tried to believe. I have torn my heart limb from limb, offered it over and over again, agonized for others, and have begged for healing since the beginning. I came because of a promise that there was peace and hope to be found. And I see those when I am in community – but then I go home at night. And when I am alone again, all that dries up and I’m left once more with my demons that leave me feeling crushed, despairing, abandoned, and destroyed. Everything that I thought I went to be delivered from.

I am angry at God.

If there is one,

Then I’m rather pissed.

Because I feel as though I were set up for failure in my fabrication. Because no matter how much I want to believe, everything that I’m not supposed to be has been knit into the fibers of my mind. Apparently I have to change who I am, who I was created to be, in order to get to where God wants me. I am tired of fighting my DNA. And every time I feel as though I am making some sort of progress, I’m met with a rude slap from just life itself that sets me back again. And I’m starting to believe that God doesn’t give a damn. If God existed in such a conscious, sentient state as to know what he was putting into me, then He is the one who created the very barrier that keeps me from Him.

So, I’m a little inclined to believe, anymore, that God is not some BEING with a separate consciousness, so much as God is the combination of the forces we know in this universe; emotion (individually and community), forces of science, nature, the capacity of human society and relationship – all compounded together, creating what we know to be “God.” But not something entirely separate that cares, unless it be the type of caring found within human community. Separate from that though, I don’t think there is a God listening to and catering to our every whim.

I’m so tired of shooting prayers off into empty space.


Cassie and I talked about our experiences with faith a little bit on our way back toward King's Cross, but it was difficult to talk about it too extensively because we happened to be heading back at rush hour and were packed into the Tube like sardines and were constantly getting bumped around by people. Sometimes the crowds here are rather insane; that's one of the few things that I think would actually keep me from wanting to live here for any great length of time - the city can get a little suffocating at times. I still remain entirely enthralled by this city though; there is so much that I am going to miss dearly.